“So… are you staying or leaving?” N asked casually. All eyes turned to Nonie, who was at that moment deeply focused on trying to crack open a stubborn buah sentul.
“She’s staying,” Nithya answered before Nonie could even pretend otherwise. “That much is clear.”
“Wait—hold on,” Noorie said, squinting at her.
“Something’s… different.”
“Different?” N echoed. “What do you mean?”
“Let me look properly.” Noorie leaned in dramatically, pretending to inspect her like a specimen under a microscope. “Aha! She’s wearing a dress.”
“Not just any dress,” Nithya added. “That’s a cotton floral dress from East India Company, okay. And—wait—is that lipstick?”
“A light shade, but definitely lipstick,” N confirmed. We all gasped in exaggerated unison.
“She’s in love!” N declared.
“Waaahhh!” we shouted together—including Nonie, who couldn’t help but laugh, despite trying to keep her head down over the fruit.
“... with an officer and a gentleman!” Noorie added with a dramatic flair.
“Waaahhh!” we repeated, louder this time.
“Look at her!” N said. “She’s glowing. Radiant. Absolutely blooming.”
“And pretty too,” Nithya chimed in.
“Ya lah!” Noorie nodded. “No wonder lah. We were wondering what sparked the makeover.”
All the while, Nonie kept fiddling with the buah sentul, trying very hard to pretend she didn’t hear a word we were saying—but her ears were clearly turning pink.
“So… you accepted the student nurse offer?” Nithya asked, more gently now. She nodded, still blushing. A silent admission. It was surprising. Just a few weeks ago, she’d been adamant about leaving for the UK.
Then one afternoon, she told me she had changed her mind. “New development,” she’d said cryptically. Didnt push her that much. But eventually, over one of our long walks, she told everything.
And now here she was: the tomboy in a dress and lipstick, cracking open a tropical fruit while we teased her mercilessly. Love does strange and beautiful things.
But eventually, she told Nithya about her reunion with her twin. Nithya couldn’t help laughing when she said it. Nithya knew all about this “twin” of hers. She’d spoken of him many times before—always with that mix of fondness and quiet rebellion.
She even showed an old photograph once: the two of them, maybe nine or ten, sweaty and smiling after a badminton match at their kampong. The picture was yellowed with age, but the connection between them was unmistakable.
Nithya always loved hearing her kampong stories. There was something so vivid and animated in the way she told them—like the scenes were still happening right in front of her.
“No!” she had shouted, fists clenched and face flushed. “I’m not partnering with him. He’s a horrible player! Always misses the shuttlecock. Where got fun? I end up doing all the work!”
The boys around her groaned. “But you have to,” one said pleadingly. “We’ve got no other girl player. You’re the only one we have. Look at the Chinese team—they’ve already formed their side. If we don’t put up a mixed team, we’ll lose. You don’t want our kampong to lose, do you?”
“I don’t care,” she snapped. “I don’t want this guy as my partner. Why can’t Poh Poh be my partner instead?” There was an awkward silence. Another boy spoke up, more hesitantly.
“But… he’s Chinese. This tournament is between the Malay and Chinese teams. You’re Malay—so you play for us. Poh Poh plays for them.”
“I don’t like this arrangement,” she said stubbornly, crossing her arms. “I’m not playing unless Poh Poh is my partner.” The Malay boys looked at one another, visibly frustrated. They tried every possible reasoning with her—but she was unmoved.
That’s when Pak Harun emerged from his office, having observed the commotion from a distance. “What’s going on here?” he asked, hands on his hips.
“She, Pak Cik,” one of the boys said, pointing at her with exasperation. “She refuses to partner with Atan. She says she wants Poh Poh instead. But this is supposed to be a Chinese vs Malay match. How can like that?” Pak Harun looked down at her, amused.
Everyone in the kampong knew her. She was that kind of girl—stubborn, sharp, and impossible not to like. And more often than not, she got her way. He smiled.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said slowly. “Let her and Poh Poh form a team. Whomever beat them wins the tournament.” The boys exchanged glances.
It wasn’t what they wanted—but they also knew they couldn’t out-argue her or Pak Harun. And so, they agreed.
That moment, she told me, was the beginning of everything. Of friendship that defied boundaries. Of her twin—not by blood, but by spirit. And maybe, just maybe, the start of something that would circle back into her life again, all these years later.
We was genuinely happy for her. The breakup had been hard on her—much harder than she ever admitted aloud. She never talked about it in detail, but we all felt the shift. The cheerful, mischievous girl we once knew—the one who laughed the loudest, climbed trees without permission, and never missed a teasing opportunity—began to retreat into herself. She became quieter. A little more detached.
As though something deep inside her had dimmed. But still, whenever we called, she would show up. No questions asked. No complaints. Just presence. That’s the kind of friend she was. Even in her own silence, she made space for others. Sometimes she would sit with us without saying much, just listening.
Other times she would laugh, a little softer than before—but always sincerely.
And over time, we stopped asking her to “bounce back,” stopped expecting the old Nonie to return. We learned to love the one who stayed. So now, seeing that sparkle return—even if just a flicker—was a quiet joy for all of us.
Especially Nithya She was wearing a dress. And lipstick. And she had said yes to staying. Maybe it wasn’t just about reuniting with her “twin.” Maybe it was about reuniting with herself.
Nithya noticed it the moment she walked in—something had shifted. Nonie, as usual, was the first to arrive. She always was. Punctual to a fault, meticulous in a way that bordered on obsessive. We used to tease her for it, but by now it had become part of her charm. She didn’t talk much, not usually.
She was an observer, a quiet presence. But when she did speak, her words often spiraled upward—into space, the cosmos, the great mysteries beyond our small human concerns. Her universe was filled with comets, eclipses, and distant planets spinning in silence.
So when she came in that evening, eyes already alight with excitement, we braced ourselves. “Here we go,” Nithya muttered under my breath. “I need to show you all something,” she said, already pulling out a folded article about the recent solar eclipse. “Did you see this? It was total in the southern hemisphere. The photos—look at this corona!”
“But it’s just an eclipse,” Nithya teased, not able to help herself. “What’s so fascinating about a moment of darkness?” Her eyes widened—almost comically.
“Just an eclipse?” she repeated, scandalised. That was the spark. She was off. “All eclipses—especially total solar eclipses—are incredible events. They’ve been observed and revered for centuries. At a spiritual level, many cultures believe everything becomes magnified during an eclipse, because it’s the moment when day and night become one. There is no light, no dark. Just transition. Just... stillness.” She was in her element—her voice steady, her face glowing with the passion of a cosmic preacher. And then, just as the rest of us exchanged panicked glances—N stepped in.
“This reminds me of a beautiful old movie,” she said, gently interrupting. “Ladyhawke. Did any of you ever watch it?” The room exhaled.
“Ladyhawke?” Noorie echoed, intrigued.
“Yes,” N continued, smiling. “It’s a story about two lovers cursed to always be together—but never as man and woman. By day, she becomes a hawk. At night, he is a wolf. Only at the edges of light—sunrise and sunset—can they almost see each other.” The room fell still.
“One heart-wrenching scene,” she went on softly, “is just before dawn. They lie side by side. The light begins to rise… and in that sliver of in-between, he starts to shift—wolf into man. And just as their hands nearly touch… she begins her transformation into a hawk.
He lets out this agonized scream as she lifts into the sky.” For a moment, none of us spoke. Even Nonie had forgotten about the corona, the celestial math, the universe itself. She was staring at N, completely caught in the story.
“The only way they can break the curse,” N said gently, “is during an eclipse—when it’s neither day nor night. Only then, under that brief sliver of impossible light, can they face the bishop as man and woman.” Silence. Not awkward. Reverent.
Then Noorie sighed dramatically, “Why do all great love stories involve pain?” “Because,” N replied with a small smile, “it’s the only thing strong enough to bend time, space, and curses.”
“Good,” Nithya said, smiling at her. “We’re happy you’ve decided to stay. Why go so far when you can find the same opportunity here?”
“Yah lah,” N added. “There’s so much work to be done here. We need you.” Nonie hesitated. She had that look again—something brewing beneath the surface.
“There’s something…” she said slowly, “I’m not sure… it’s just strange.”
“Strange?” Nithya asked.
“What’s bothering you?”
“The interview,” she replied, reaching into her bag. She pulled out a folded piece of paper and laid it on the table. “Here—take a look.” We leaned in.
“Hmm. Dates, names, times... and these numbers—3s and one 4,” Noorie said, frowning slightly.
“These are the names of the candidates called for interviews on the same day as me,” Nonie explained. “Their time slots and panel numbers.”
“Okay…” I said, still not following.
“Do you see it?” she asked, tapping her name. “Three… and one 4. I’m the 4.”
“So?” Noorie asked. “What's the issue?”
“The numbers represent the number of interviewers. Everyone else was interviewed by three people. I’m the only one who had four.”
“Oh.”
“You were the last one to be interviewed?” N asked.
“No. I was in the middle. There were several before and several after me. So this fourth person—whoever she was—must have stepped in just before my turn.”
How do you know that?” Nithya asked. She nodded, already anticipating our skepticism. “I didn’t notice it at the time. But about a week later, I bumped into a few other assistant nurses at the cafeteria. We started chatting about the interview. You know how these things go—comparing notes. That’s when I first realised something was off.” She unfolded another small paper.
“I thought maybe I made a mistake. So I made a list. Then I started calling the other girls who were interviewed the same day.”
“And…?” “Same answer. All of them had three interviewers. The same three. I’m the only one with a fourth. So I extended the list to the day before and after. Same pattern. Three, consistently.”
“Okay,” Nithya said slowly. “But… you got in, right? They selected you. What’s the issue?”
“It is an issue,” she insisted. “Why only me? Who was that extra person? Why wasn’t she part of the others’ interviews?”
“Do you remember how she looked?” Noorie asked.
“She looked Malay. Spoke perfect Malay to me toward the end. She must work there—she moved in and out like she belonged.”
“Was she young? Older? What kind of Malay?” Nonie described the mysterious woman, her features, her tone, her almost maternal gaze. N and I exchanged a glance. But before the questions could go deeper, N quickly jumped in—her tone bright and warm.
“Well,” she said, lifting her glass, “the most important thing is: you were chosen. You’re staying. And we are thrilled.” She stood up. “This is a good gathering. We welcome our new friend—Noorie—and we celebrate our old one, who’s chosen to stay.”
“Wait,” she added, dashing into the kitchen. She returned moments later holding a bottle. “Sparkling wine!” Noorie’s eyes widened.
“Alcohol?”
“Non-alcoholic,” she said with a wink, popping the bottle open and pouring into glasses. “Let’s drink,” N announced.
“To what?” N raised her glass high. “To us. And to the Silk Road—here we come!”
To us!” we all echoed, rising together. “And to the Silk Road!” We clinked glasses. The sparkle of laughter returned. The room, once filled with questions, hummed with joy again.
“This is so much fun,” Noorie said, gently sipping her drink. N wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “My dearest friend… this is just the beginning.”
Chpt 20 / 36
